Remember When
by Scarlet Scully
Summary: Booth and Brennan, a tragedy and the after effects. Anything more and there won't be much reason for you to read. BB and some angst. Brennan POV. Rated T to be safe.
1. Prologue

**Remember When**

Summary: Booth and Brennan, a tragedy and the after effects. Is there any more information required? If so, just read the prologue and the first chapter and it will give you a much better idea of what is happening. BB and some angst. Proceed with caution.

_A/N: This my first attempt at a Bones fic. Now, before you go screaming off in the other direction, allow me to clarify… this is not my first fic. I have posted a few in a few other fandoms. Bones has just become my latest obsession. Please read and send me all your comments, thoughts, suggestions. Good or bad, they will all be well received. And, unfortunately, I cannot make any claim on any of this… the characters of Booth and Brennan and anyone else you might recognize belong to a number of people (in my mind) but none of them are me. If this little story inspires you to send anyone money, don't send it to me and get your head checked immediately! Thank you for reading. Scarlet._

**Prologue**

Blackness seems to fade away, chased away by a dull ache that permeates my entire being. I try vainly to catalogue the injuries that are causing my pain, but give up, deciding that it hurts too much to think about where I hurt. There is a brightness that threatens behind my eyelids and I cower from the pain that that light promises, keeping my eyes closed for the time being. A thumb brushes the back of my hand, caressing it slowly. I know that I should open my eyes and tell him that I'm okay. I know that he suffers too and will until I do. That's when I remember. I remember it all and keep my eyes closed. I'm not ready for anymore pain.

_Please continue on to chapter one. And no, my author's notes are not usually longer than my actual posts. It just worked better having the prologue end here. No need to review yet. I know I haven't posted enough to warrant it:)_


	2. Part One

_A/N: Definitely more in this post this time. Again, I don't own anything so please don't sue me. I'm just borrowing our favourite partners for awhile and I promise to return them when I'm finished. Please read and send me all your comments. Scarlet._

**Remember When, part one**

I remember waking that morning with his weight beside me, fighting to recall the events that had lead to my lying naked in bed with my partner. Then the details of the case had flashed through my mind and I remembered how emotionally drained we had felt. Booth's offer of Thai food and Spanish wine had been a welcome distraction from dealing with the aftermath of the intense case and I had accepted it easily. In hindsight, the wine was probably not the best of ideas considering our heightened emotional states. Maybe one bottle wouldn't have been too bad, but the second and third bottles were definitely ill-advised.

It's in our nature, really. Dealing with death and trauma by celebrating life and all its pleasures. When faced with the fragility of human existence, it is important to do something that reminds us why we struggle to exist. At least, that was what I had told Booth when he had woken. The sex, although highly pleasurable, had been just sex and it didn't have to mean or change anything between us. He seemed to have believed me. I think I had even convinced myself.

So we suffered through an uncomfortable breakfast of coffee and bagels and a few quiet car rides until after a few days, our partnership seemed to have returned to normal. The sex was behind us.

That was about six weeks ago. I double-checked my day planner to be certain and the Donnelly case had concluded just over six weeks ago. Just over six weeks ago, I had had sex with Booth in a drunken haze and had disregarded common sense. Not only had I had sex with my partner, I had had unprotected sex with my partner. When I had double-checked the dates on the Donnelly case, I had also verified the date of my last period. That had been over two months ago. It seemed pointless in denying it any longer. The absence of my period and the five positive tests in my bathroom wastebasket had confirmed that I was pregnant with my partner's child.

Accepting the fact of my pregnancy was easy. What I was going to do about it was another thing all together. I couldn't talk to anyone about it; I hadn't decided yet if I was going to keep it and wanted to make the decision without any undue influence. I had never imagined myself bringing another life to this overpopulated planet and knew that if I told Booth, he would want me to do just that.

And then there was the matter of my relationship with Booth. We had just recovered the easy comradery of the weeks leading up to our sexual encounter. I didn't want to lose it again and knew that I would if I told him. I knew that he wouldn't want to have another complicated relationship with his child. He would feel some sense of obligation and would likely propose to me as he had done with Rebecca and I would have to refuse.

Or would I?

The thoughts of a possibility of a life with Booth surprised me. Why would I consider accepting a proposal from him? We didn't love each other. We disagreed on most major life decisions. We argued all the time. We would never be able to live together and get along. How did I get to the point of arguing with myself against accepting a proposal that I haven't yet been offered?

Maybe I wanted him to offer.

The events of that night played through my mind. The memory of the sex was wonderful, but so was the memory of the laughter and conversation that had preceded the sex. I miss that intimacy more than I miss the physical intimacy. We haven't so much as shared a lunch together since that night and I would be dishonest with myself if I didn't admit that I missed him. I miss him and I see him nearly everyday. Amazing how that can happen.

As I walked to my office the following morning, I saw him waiting for me on the landing. Something about the smile on his face and the warmth of his greeting seemed to speak to my heart… not that my heart could actually hear him speaking. It was just that I knew in that moment that I couldn't betray him and my not including him in this major decision was a form of betrayal. I would be furious - and hurt - if he left me out of something important and nothing he could leave me out of would be as important to him as this decision that I was about to make. I had to tell him. I would take him to lunch today and tell him.

"Morning, Booth," I greeted him as I arrived at my office door.

Glancing at his watch, he answered: "I guess you could still call it morning. I was beginning to think you weren't ever going to make it in."

I knew he was being slightly facetious, but found myself defending my late arrival just the same.

"I've been working a lot of extra hours lately. I didn't think it would be a big issue if I started my day a little later than usual. Maybe next time I'll check with you first."

I cringed internally at the edge in my voice. This hadn't been how I had wanted to begin our conversation. I knew that additional hormone production was the reason behind my irritability, but knowing the reason behind it did little to remedy it. My late arrival had been caused by the pregnancy, too. It had just been so hard to convince myself to leave the warmth of my bed without a pressing case to attend to. Maybe I wasn't ready to talk to Booth about the pregnancy, after all.

"Easy, Bones," he interrupted my silent monologue. "I was just making a little joke. You know what a joke is, right? Humour? Funny-ha-ha?"

His good-natured ribbing reminded me of why I had decided to talk to him and I smiled half-heartedly in answer.

"I know what a joke is, Booth. I'm just… you want to have lunch with me today? My treat."

He seemed a little lost in my train of thought, not that I could blame him. I had probably truly confused him - first showing up slightly late for work and then my first discussion had centered on going out to lunch. This pregnancy thing was clearly interfering with my focus.

"I'd love to properly take you up on that offer, Bones, but we'll have to do that another time. We have a case. Grab your things and your… Zack and let's get out of here."

"We have a case, Booth. Why didn't you say so? You should have called me. I would've been here sooner. Zack?" I called over the railing. "Get your things. We have to go."

_A/N: I should have more to post in the next day or so. I hope there's enough interest to warrant it. Please read and review. Thank you. Scarlet._


	3. Part Two

_A/N: Many thanks to all of those who have read and reviewed my little story so far. I'm hoping this will keep me entertained while I endure the long wait until the next new episode of Bones. As usual, none of these characters belong to me (I don't even need credit for the ones I created:) so please don't feel obligated to send me any money. That money should be sent to the powers-that-be at Fox, et al and send all of your comments to me. Good or bad, I will be happy to read them all. Scarlet._

**Remember When, part two**

As he drove, Booth filled us in on the details of the case, including his beliefs on the identity of the remains and how they got to where they were.

"I really wish you wouldn't try to prejudice me like that," I interrupted him.

"What? What am I doing now?"

"You know that I like to form my opinions without any outside influence. You know that I don't like to work with assumptions." I could feel my face heating as I expressed my anger.

"Look, I appreciate your whole 'scientific approach' and 'unbiased findings' and all that," he raised his voice in conjunction with mine. "I just think that it's a little too coincidental that we find a body where he used to live. That he's moved after his wife has gone missing for nearly two years. Wouldn't it make things easier if you knew what you were looking for?"

"He's right, Dr. Brennan," Zack added from the back seat. "You often say that narrowing a search field isn't prejudicial. It just prevents unnecessary investigation by eliminating irrelevant possibilities."

I knew that both Zack and Booth were making logical arguments, that I was the one being irrational. I wasn't sure why I had interrupted his explanation of the details of the earlier investigation. I think that I might not have wanted to hear anything further about the man who might have killed his wife of seven years. That it was believed that she was pregnant at the time of her disappearance and that her pregnancy had been evidence of an affair and thus served as a motive for her murder. I knew that it was in no way related to my own personal situation, but for some reason, I didn't want to listen to him discuss it any further.

"Why didn't you find the body two years ago when the case first originated?" I asked, trying to divert his attention from our argument - an argument that he had clearly won.

"We didn't have enough evidence for a warrant and he refused to allow us to dig on his property without one."

We arrived at the former home of Jon Adams only to find two television crews and several reporters had filled the tree-lined street. I could already sense the anger rolling off Booth at the intrusion of the newsmen and shared some of the anger myself as I thought of the damage they may have done to the crime scene.

"What the hell is going on here?" I heard him rage at the local police as Zack and I approached the remains. We worked efficiently, quickly uncovering the full body of the skeleton buried in the shallow grave.

"Booth," I called to him, rescuing the officer he had been harassing. "Initial inspection confirms your suspicions. This is a female between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. Hodgins will be able to tell more specifically, but the level of decomposition matches that of someone who had been buried two years ago. I hate to admit it, but all cursory indicators lead me to believe that this is Samantha Adams."

"That's just wonderful," he responded sarcastically and I couldn't ascertain the reason behind his sarcasm. "Okay, you and Zack bag the remains and I'll get one of the locals to bring you back to the Jeffersonian."

"Where are you going?" I asked, knowing that I would be next asking to accompany him, regardless of his answer.

"I'm going to question Jon Adams before he gets wind of this on the local news."

It was then that I understood why he had been so upset by the reporters. His investigation was being hampered by their desire to get the lead story. I rose quickly, pulling my gloves off as I chased after him.

"I'm coming with you," I stated. Then, remembering the remains, over my shoulder I called to Zack: "Take them back to the Jeffersonian and clean them. Call me as soon as you determine a probable cause of death."

The half hour drive with Booth had been a quiet one. I assumed that his mind was on our case, but I couldn't seem to keep my mind focussed on it as well. I kept returning to my decision of that morning - my decision to tell him about the pregnancy. Now that I had decided, the words seemed to demand that I speak them. They were at the forefront of my every thought. Even at the crime scene, I had almost blurted it out.

_'All cursory indicators lead me to believe that this is Samantha Adams and by the way, I'm pregnant… and it's yours.'_

I actually had to smother a smile as this last thought had passed through my mind. I'm sure that I would have given him quite a shock then. Of course, then he would have given me a lecture about being too blunt and how I should think before I opened my mouth. If only he knew the discretion I was using now; he would be so impressed with my progress.

"Bones, is there something funny here that I'm missing?"

I pressed my lips together, physically erasing the evidence of the amusement I had found in my inner dialogue.

"No, just something I was thinking about," I vainly attempted to cover for my thoughts, all the while searching my mind for an answer to the question that I knew was forth-coming.

"Oh yeah? What exactly were you thinking about to make you grin like that?"

"Nothing," I answered, smothering another grin. Now I was smiling more at having been caught in the lie than anything that I might have been thinking - and at his curiosity. I had known the instant he had interrupted my thoughts that he would relentlessly question me until I offered a viable response. The problem was that I was too distracted to come up with a reasonable alternative to my actual thoughts. This was exactly why I didn't lie. It required too much effort and energy.

"Booth, shouldn't you be concentrating on your driving?" I countered in an effort to divert his attention. "Or would you rather that I drive?"

"You're not driving, Bones and nice try at distracting me. Now, what did you find so funny?" He paused a moment before continuing and I could imagine the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to determine the source of my amusement. "Was it me? Did I do something, or…," he snuck a quick glance at his reflection in the rear view mirror. "Is there something on my face or in my teeth?"

I couldn't help myself and I laughed aloud as he continued to peer at his reflection. "No, Booth, there's nothing on your face or in your teeth or anything like that. Now, keep your eyes on the road. I don't want to die because you were paranoid about your appearance."

"Okay, but you do know that you're supposed to tell me, right?" He glanced quickly at me and must have read the confusion on my face because in that instant, I thought he was referring to my condition and that he had somehow guessed that I had been debating whether or not to tell him.

"That's what partners do, Bones. They watch each other's back. They don't let them show up at crime scenes with bagel in their teeth. I don't know how it works in the lab, but that's how it works out here, okay?"

"Booth, you don't have anything wrong with you, okay?" I had said this last laughingly, but the words gave me pause. _'You don't have anything wrong with you.'_ It was true. He was far from perfect, but his imperfections made him better… more real. He didn't have anything wrong with him, so what was wrong with me that I didn't want to have more of him in my life?

"I hope we get a chance to have a real lunch today," I stated simply and in my mind I added: _'so I can tell you that I'm pregnant.'_

"Geez, Bones," came his answer, "did you skip breakfast today, because if you did and you're that hungry, I can hit a drive-through on the way."

I knew that I had to give him some reason for my odd behaviour, so I said simply: "There's something I have to talk to you about and we'll have a chance to talk over lunch."

Silence settled into the space between us and I chanced a quick glance at him before turning my focus to the world outside my window. The neat houses of the suburban neighbourhood flashed quickly by and in the back of my mind I realized that we were nearing our destination. I wondered a bit why Booth didn't question me further, but then realized that he must have recognized something in the inflection of my voice or in my body language to prevent any further discussion.

The short time remaining in our drive was spent in silence - he with his thoughts and me with mine. It wasn't until we pulled into the driveway of Jon Adams new residence that he finally broke the silence.

"Temperance, I don't know what you need to talk to me about, but I hope we're okay. We're okay, right?"

I nodded my head and spoke the affirmation aloud, hoping to have given him some peace of mind. He needed to direct his attention to the task at hand and he would have more than enough to worry about later.

_A/N: So… what do you think? Please press the button and let me know. This is, after all, my first Bones fic - I can more than use the advice and I'll admit that I am a little insecure. Thanks for your feedback. Scarlet._


	4. Part Three

_A/N: Another chapter and a little more substance here. Thank you to everyone who has read so far (even those who haven't reviewed) and to those that have reviewed, please continue to do so. Reviews, after all, are the only pay that I receive for this and they keep me motivated when my fingers cramp from all the typing:)_

_Booth and Brennan aren't mine - they belong to David and Emily and Fox and Kathy. Please don't sue me. Imitation is, after all, the highest form of flattery._

**Remember When, part three**

We approached the grey brick home that, from all outward appearances, seemed to hold no one within it. I peered through the window and noted that the furniture seemed well-ordered and relatively clean and that there wasn't much evidence of an early morning departure; the kind that left empty cups of coffee and newspapers at the door.

Booth had walked from the front door to the side gate and was peering over the privacy fence. I turned toward him, preparing to call out my observations when I noticed a woman heading in our direction. She looked to be in her mid-to-late fifties, her short blonde hair well on its way to grey, and was walking quickly across what I could only assume was her lawn, its edge meeting the driveway where we had parked.

"Can I help you?" she called ahead of her arrival.

I walked to meet her at the driveway and was joined by Booth.

"We're looking for Jon Adams. Is he at work?" I answered, knowing that Booth would most likely chastise me for not letting him 'do the talking'.

"No," she answered, seeming to appraise us as she contemplated whether to answer the question that would soon follow my first. "I don't think I've seen you around here before."

Booth stepped forward then, badge in hand. "We're with the FBI, ma'am, and we just have a few questions for him. Do you know what time we can expect him home?"

The woman seemed disinclined to cooperate at first. But Booth moved closer to her, smiled his charming smile, all the while asking her questions about her family and grandchildren. This was why he always insisted on doing all the talking… he was much better at it than I was and this woman seemed much more at ease than when our conversation had first started.

"Jon won't be back for at least a week," she said and the statement had flown so smoothly out of their earlier conversation that it seemed to be almost an afterthought. "He asked me to keep an eye on the house while he took his little girl out of town for a holiday. Friday is the anniversary of her mother's disappearance, you know."

Booth nodded his agreement, allowing the woman - Maggie as she had introduced herself - to continue to prattle on, all the while giving us valuable information on the case. I realized that I should start listening a little more closely when he offered his advice on my people skills.

"He just left to pick Amy up at school; she goes for half a day, every day. His plan was to take her to a cottage up north… a family place. It's really isolated - you know the kind with no power, no phones, no tv - he didn't want her to be reminded of her mom. The poor girl's just begun to come out of her shell as it is."

Booth thanked the woman and handed her his card, reminding her to call him if she thought of or saw anything else. As we climbed into his SUV, I half-expected an invitation for dinner, so familiar had the two become.

"Bones, get a hold of Zack and see if he's gotten anywhere with the cause of death, yet. I'm going to see if the FBI can get an address for that cottage."

I was in the middle of calling Zack when I realized that he wasn't heading in the direction of the interstate. "Where are we going, Booth?"

"Amy Adams' school. Unless he pulled her out of class early, he hasn't left yet. Parker's school doesn't break for lunch until twelve o'clock. I'd rather pick Adams up there before he gets out of town."

"Do you still think he did it, Booth?" I asked.

The picture Maggie had painted had been one of a loving, caring father and it hadn't fit well with image of a man who would kill his wife and her unborn child solely because she had had an affair. Of course, the picture that I had had of my father while growing up didn't fit well with the man that I knew him to be. This was why there was truth to the adage that appearances could be deceiving.

"I don't know, Bones. We still don't have enough facts yet. I just know that I don't want him off in some out of the way cottage when I find out that he is guilty."

I nodded my agreement before returning to my earlier phone call. My conversation with Zack was brief - he had just arrived at the Jeffersonian and was in the early stages of cleaning the remains. There weren't any answers to be had from that end of our investigation yet.

As Booth finished his phone call, we pulled onto a quiet boulevard. There were several cars lining the street and several women and a few men waited at the sidewalk leading to the school entrance. Slightly off to the side, the dark blonde head of Jon Adams peaked from above the small crowd. He turned slightly at the sound of our approach and confirmed my suspicions of his identity; he hadn't changed much in the time that had passed since the photo had been taken that was in Samantha Adams' file.

We began to approach him and the school entrance opened concurrent to our approach. A little girl with dark, curly hair ran out to meet him. We increased our pace.

"Jon Adams," Booth flashed his badge as he addressed the man. "We need to speak to you for a few minutes."

"Look, agent…" Adams bent to read the name on Booth's badge. "Booth, I'm kinda in a hurry here. Do you think this could wait?"

"No, it can't," came Booth's matter-of-fact reply.

Adams eyes flickered between Booth's and my own and then to Amy. There was a moment of hesitation and then Booth signalled for me to take the girl away from the impending conversation.

I crouched down so I was at her eyelevel. "Amy? My name's Temperance. Did you want to go…" I paused, quickly scanning the surroundings until I found a suitable destination: "… play on the swings?"

She turned up to her father, gaining his approval before taking my hand. We crossed the small courtyard entrance to the swings that I had noticed on the other side of the building. We had stopped in front of the first swing and she turned her innocent face up to mine. I was struck by the trust that she had so easily surrendered as she held her arms up to me, allowing me to lift her onto the swing. The sun glinted off her dark tresses and I noticed the hint of red that laced through her curls. Her eyes met mine as I lifted her, their blue a shade or two darker than my own.

"Push, please, Tem'pance," she pleaded and I moved behind her, giving her a soft push to get her swinging. My eyes strayed to the conversation between the two men, but I was too far to hear any of the words exchanged between them. I observed them for a moment, their body language telling me that the confrontation was growing more heated. I would be spending more than a few minutes with little Amy.

"Higher!" she giggled and I pushed her a little harder, but not enough so that she would go much higher than she had before. I wasn't really sure how safe a swing was for such a little girl… I had seen many a fractured wrist that had been caused by a fall off of a swing and many of those fractures had occurred when the victim had been older than Amy.

"Maybe we should go on the slide," I suggested and she happily accepted, jumping down and racing over to the slide that stood behind us. I followed her and waited at the bottom while she scrambled up the ladder to the top.

"Catch me," she called and then, without waiting for my reply, jumped and slid down into my awaiting arms.

We repeated the exercise a few times more. After her last trip down, I held her in my arms, turning to find Booth and her father. Both men had moved closer to the SUV and the slide, but I still was unable to hear their conversation.

I turned my attention back to the little girl in my arms. Booth and I were in the middle of destroying the last remnants of normalcy that she had in her life. Her mother had disappeared and was likely lying on an examination table in the Jeffersonian. And her father may very well be the man that was responsible for her lying there. In that moment, I was struck by the overwhelming urge to wrap her in my arms and shelter her from the hard life that I knew lay before her.

As I contemplated this girl and the life that her parents had left her to, I realized that there were a great many things that I could do - and probably would do - that were worse than bringing a child into this world and raising it with a man like Booth. As I held this little girl and imagined that the life growing inside me could one day look just like her, I realized another truth; there may be many things that would be worse than having our baby, but there were few things that were worse than not having it.

Amy squirmed in my arms and I remembered that I had been holding her overlong and released her from my embrace. I glanced over to Booth as she raced to the steps again.

_'Booth, we're going to have a baby,'_ I told him in my mind.

He had glanced over when I had, seeming to feel my eyes upon him. He smiled in our direction before returning to his conversation. I turned back to Amy who was dancing impatiently at the top of the slide. That was when the world blew up.

_A/N: My usual pleas for feedback. This is the first story of any length that I have written in the first person and I would love to know if it is still working. A drawback - there's more to this story that I want to tell and the first person telling prevents me from telling it. Maybe I need to write a companion piece from Booth's pov? Anyway… please send me your thoughts. Scarlet._


	5. Part Four

_A/N: A short update, but I didn't want to leave everyone wondering for too long what had happened. I'm definitely leaning toward a companion piece. There is still so much more of this story that I want to tell. In the mean time, please read **this** story and review it. And as usual, they aren't mine so please don't sue me. I don't have much anyway. Scarlet._

**Remember When, part four**

Blackness faded but the ringing continued, intensified actually, and I struggled to rise from where I had fallen. There seemed to be a great weight crushing down on me and I tried to draw sufficient strength to push myself up to my knees. Bit by bit the weight seemed to fall away and it was then that I began to hear him calling to me through the haze of the ringing. I opened my eyes, only to shut them quickly against the world spinning before me. His strong hands wrapped around my shoulders and I was lifted upright.

"Bones, are you okay?"

I attempted to open my eyes again, hoping that the dizziness wouldn't return. Strangely, I felt no pain; a logical part of my mind that was still functioning told me that it was because of the adrenaline flowing through my veins. As my eyes focussed, I took in the devastation around me, turning to look at what remained of the school. Surprisingly, it was much further behind me than it had been before the explosion. I had been blown beyond the slide and…

Amy.

I pushed away from Booth and began struggling to move the rubble before me. Bricks and mortar bit into my hands but I continued to dig, scanning the surroundings for some sign of her small form.

"Bones," his arm stayed mine. "You're hurt. You're going to make it worse. We have help on the way."

I heard his words, but disregarded them. I couldn't wait. I had to help Amy. She was alone in the world with no one to look out for her and I wasn't going to abandon her to some strangers.

"No, Booth. I have to find her. Help me find her."

There had been a desperate tone to my voice and that logical part of my mind spoke again, telling me that I was in shock, suffering from the after-effects of the injuries that I had undoubtedly sustained. Logic dictated that I should wait for skilled help to arrive. That logical part was too small to have much power in my shock-filled mind though and I continued to dig. Booth joined me and we began to cover more ground. At the edge of my vision, I saw Jon Adams sifting through the rubble as well.

Something bright flashed in the sunlight and I scrambled over to the source. A small zipper attached to the bright green of Amy's jacket peaked up from the debris.

"Booth, help me," I called and began lifting away the rubble.

I tore into the bricks, intent on seeing her sweet face again. Soon, I felt his presence at my side and his bloodied hands joined mine and we worked to quickly uncover the little girl. A third pair of hands entered my field of vision and finally, her pale face was uncovered. We hastened to expose the rest of her body and Jon lifted her from the ground. With a shaking hand, I reached out to find her pulse. A reassuring rhythm beat under my fingers and tears of relief streaked down my cheeks.

"C'mere, Bones," Booth murmured and pulled me into his arms. His arms tightened and the pain from his embrace caused me to gasp. The dizziness returned with a vengeance and I squeezed my eyes shut as the world seem to shift before me. More pain emanated from throughout my body and the dizziness I felt was replaced with a light-headedness that refused to fade. Then the world shifted again and I was pulled back into the blackness.

_A/N: A short update so I'm only asking for a short review:) Please:) Scarlet._


	6. Part Five

_A/N: I actually wrote this part before I wrote anything else so I hope it still flows well from the earlier part of the story._

_They are not mine so please don't sue me for just borrowing them for a while. I wouldn't have to if you would just air a new episode of Bones:)_

**Remember When, part five**

As the memory of the previous day's events replay in my mind, I am reminded that I am currently lying in a hospital bed and that I still haven't acknowledged Booth's presence. The pressure of his hand on mine soothes and warms me despite the deep cold that I feel, even beneath the warm hospital sheets.

I am laying on my side and there is something laughable about how this so closely approximates my most comfortable sleeping position. They must have spent hours getting the glass out of my back and have left me this way so as to not aggravate the injury any further. Funny - not in a 'funny-ha-ha' way, but in an intriguing way - that the pain of that injury seems insignificant in comparison to the pain in my heart. I never used to believe in 'heartache' before. I do now.

Too much time has passed and I know that I have to open my eyes. I've left him to worry for too long. Yet, I almost believe that it would be better to leave him to worry - about me. At least then he has the reassuring beeps of the monitor to let him know that it won't get any worse. Once I open my eyes, I have to tell him and then it won't get any better. It can't.

Sleep fights against my eyes opening and my lids flutter before I finally can open them fully. My left eye is hidden by the pillow, but with my right I focus clearly on the man that I know hasn't left my side for hours. I know this even before I take in his stubble-darkened cheeks and the dark smudges beneath his eyes. There is a bruise on his forehead and I am reminded that he hadn't escaped our ordeal unscathed. His hair is mussed and it reminds me of that day so many days ago and somehow, his overall appearance makes me love him even more.

"Booth."

I wanted his name to sound… well, I'm not sure how I wanted it to sound, but I know I didn't want it to sound anything like the croaked, broken word that I have spoken.

"Temperance," he whispers my name as a small smile spreads across his face.

"Booth, I…" My voice gains strength.

"The doctors say that you're going to be fine. You just have to rest, okay?"

He caresses the back of my hand with his thumb and slides his other hand beneath my palm. I squeeze it with all my strength, not that it's much considering the current state of my health, and I curse at the bandages that lie as a barrier between us. I want to feel the warmth of his skin when I tell him. I want him to feel the warmth of mine. I search his eyes and he closes them and that is when I know. He already knows. There had been something about his expression and his caresses, but his eyes tell me that he already knows.

"The baby?"

He shakes his head wordlessly and tears well in my eyes, but for some reason, they don't fall.

"We didn't get to go to lunch."

"No, we didn't," he answers and I read the confusion and concern that flash briefly across his features. He must think that I'm still dazed by the explosion and the medication.

"I was going to tell you at lunch. I knew last week, but when I asked you to lunch, it was because I wanted to tell you."

He continues to meet my gaze silently and his face is an unreadable mask.

"I was going to tell you, Booth. I would never have not told you."

I know that I'm not really making the best of sense, but I need him to understand and believe me and this is the best that I can do under the present circumstances.

"I know."

His words are softly spoken, but his acceptance speaks volumes where his voice fails.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. I wasn't ready though."

"I know." His voice is still little more than a whisper, but there is a raspy edge to it that hints at the emotions he is holding at bay.

"I'm sorry that you didn't find out that you were having a baby until you found out that you had lost it. I'm sorry that I took those few days of joy away from you." The tears that had been threatening spill over and their wetness slides down my cheeks.

"I know." His eyes seem to shimmer but I don't know whether it's caused by his unshed tears or my free-flowing ones.

"It hurts, Booth. Deep inside where the morphine can't take it away. It hurts." My voice breaks and I can't continue. I barely hold back a sob as my tears continue to fall freely.

"I know, Bones. I know."

I see a glimpse of his tears as they begin to trace a pathway down his face. He closes the distance between us, and then all I feel is his warmth. His forehead is pressed against mine and his arm rests with a comforting weight against my back. We stay that way for a long time before he pulls away.

"Sorry, Bones, I forgot about your back. Did I hurt you?"

I shake my head in denial before realizing that my position probably hinders his ability to see the motion. "No, it didn't hurt," I say aloud. "It actually felt kind of nice."

He's sitting back in the chair, but still holding my hand. Despite his close proximity, he feels so far away and I can't help but feel very alone.

"I know this bed isn't very big and it's probably frowned upon by the hospital staff, but do you think you could hold me for a while?"

I know that I don't have any right to ask this of him, but I do anyway. I need to. I need him. I need him to help me get through this night and I can't explain why. I just know that, for this night at least, I can't do it all alone.

Trying to slide over to make room for him intensifies the pain and I am very thankful for the drugs that are keeping me from screaming. A groan still manages to escape my lips.

"Easy, Bones, you're going to make it worse. Are you sure this is a good idea? I don't want to hurt you."

I'm frustrated and want to scream with that frustration. I need to be held like I've never needed to before and I don't know how to make it clear to him. I never really did do the hugging thing very much or very well. Fresh tears spring to my eyes as a vision of a dark-haired girl with blue eyes appears and she rushes into my arms, wrapping her arms around me fiercely. I will never get to hold our child. I will never get to feel that rush of emotion as she hugs me. I will never get to love her. I will never get to be loved by her. I am sobbing now and don't even try to stop - not that I could.

The pain intensifies as I feel him shift my weight. I must have closed my eyes because I didn't realize that he had moved closer to the bed. The mattress shifts and then I am tucked against his chest. His arms surround me and he kisses the top of my head as my tears wet his shirt.

_A/N: All that remains is an epilogue and I promise that it will be more substantial than the prologue. It should be posted soon. Please send me your thoughts in the mean time. Scarlet._


	7. Epilogue

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who had followed this story to its conclusion. And many thanks to those of you that not only took the time to read, but also took the time to review. Your thoughts and encouragement were well appreciated._

_Again, I am not making any money off of this so please don't feel the need to sue._

_**Epilogue:**_

I hand Booth his refilled glass of wine as I return to the living room. We are spending the night at his place - not something that we do very often, but we have decided to do so tonight because it's Christmas Eve and for a change, Parker is spending the night with his father. This will be the first Christmas that Booth gets to wake up with his son and share that special moment with him. I have a hard time putting words to the feelings that are invoked within me at his allowing me to take part in this precious moment.

We had just put the last of the wrapped presents from "Santa" under the tree and I have to admit that I'm feeling a little over-whelmed by the classic sight: a beautifully lit tree - nearly perfect in its shape and size - with a wealth of gifts tumbling out from beneath its branches. How could something as simple as a tree yield so much power? When had it become such a powerful symbol in our culture?

I knew when it had become something powerful in my life. Booth knew as well, but seemed determined to change the meaning of this holiday for me. I didn't believe it possible, but didn't have the heart to deny him his fun; especially not when Parker was to be a part of our day. I would make an effort for both of them. Still, it had certainly taken my breath away when I had returned from the kitchen to see that tree - its lights and the soft glow of the fireplace warming the small room in a way that heat never would.

"Booth, I don't understand the importance of the tree at Christmas. I mean, if you really think about it, the decorating and worshipping of a tree is more related to pagan rituals than Christianity. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the birth of Christ if you believe in that kind of thing. Which I know you do."

"Bones, come here," he pats an empty space next to him on the sofa and I reluctantly lay next to him. He shifts until I am laying with his arms around me, my back against his chest, my head rests on his bicep and we are both facing the tree.

"Can't you just enjoy something without analyzing it?" he continues once we're both situated comfortably. "I didn't make up the traditions, but I like them and I follow them and I want my son to grow up with them as a part of his life, too. I mean, is there really anything better than waking up Christmas morning to a beautifully decorated tree and a pile of presents?"

"Oh, don't get me started on the commercialism of Christmas. There's this great expectation and the whole Santa thing with kids making lists and they only get their gifts if they're good. So, if you're poor you just automatically have bad kids?"

"No - Santa brings the same amount of gifts to all the good boys and girls. You know that, Bones."

I'm so caught up in the debate that I don't notice the warning tone in his voice. "Santa! That's commercialization at its best. So poor people get poorer trying to tell their good kids that they're good. Those good kids probably wouldn't want half of those presents under the tree if they knew that their parents had to buy them… if they weren't told this crazy tale about elves and reindeer and…"

A hand clamps over my mouth muffling the remainder of my argument. I shift, turning awkwardly so I can see his face, but he still keeps his hand over my mouth. I'm surprised to find traces of anger there when I hadn't even once questioned his religious beliefs during our little debate.

"That's what so great about Christmas though. The parents don't have to buy all those great presents under the tree. Santa brings them instead, right Bones?"

He is talking kind of slowly, like when he is explaining 'the real world' to one of us squints and I don't know why he has suddenly decided to treat me like a five-year-old. Then it hits me. Parker is sleeping in the other room. Probably not too soundly considering his earlier excitement over the visitor he expects tonight. I have almost blown the secret of Christmas for him. I nod my head slightly.

"You're right, Booth. That is one of the greatest things about Christmas. That parents don't have to buy all the things that their kids want and need. That Santa brings it to them instead."

"Now, as I was saying: why don't you just sit back and relax and enjoy this little holiday tradition, even if you don't understand it."

I shift again until I am comfortably wrapped in his warmth. I let my gaze fall on the tree and after a few moments, I can enjoy the simple beauty of its symmetrical branches decorated with light. The stillness of the night stretches, evoking a sense of peace that permeates my mind, my being. The warmth of his arms around me. The gentle rise and fall of his chest concurrent with my own breathing. The soft popping of the wood burning in the fireplace. The glow cast by the tree in the darkness of the room. These are the things that he wanted me to see, to feel, to accept. Silently, I thank him for teaching me the beauty in a moment that is experienced without analysis.

I'm not sure how long we have been here, lying in each other's arms, enjoying the quiet night. Staying awake when we should be sleeping yet not wanting the evening to end. Knowing that morning will come much sooner with an eager six-year-old expecting a morning full of presents.

The image of Parker tearing through his presents brings a small smile to my face and I find that I am nearly as eager as he is for the morning to come. I want to see pure, simple joy as only a child can experience it. I want to see his face light up as each surprise is revealed. I want to see the smile on Booth's face when he throws his tiny little arms around his neck in a fierce hug.

Suddenly and unintentionally, Parker is replaced in my imaginings with a dark-haired girl with bright blue eyes. And after throwing her arms around Booth, she throws her arms around me. My breath catches in my throat before I close my eyes and shake my head, clearing the vision from my mind. Still, the ache that had finally begun to fade resurges in my heart. I battle the emotions churning within me until I finally feel that I have regained some measure of control. Almost defiant, the ache is still there.

December twenty-fourth. I count the days off in my head. Twelve. My due date had been just twelve days from today. The twelve days of Christmas. I never really knew the meaning of that song, but I'm sure this wasn't what they had in mind. The hand that rests on Booth's tightens almost unconsciously. He squeezes it back.

"You know," I begin, breaking the peaceful silence. I hesitate before continuing, not really wanting to give voice to my thoughts. But I know that I have to. He has to know how I feel - he may even be having the same feelings.

"It's twelve days from today. My due date. Based on my calculations, it would be twelve days from today."

His arms tighten in their embrace, but he remains silent. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe he hadn't realized that my due date was nearing. Maybe he hadn't done the math and now I've just ruined the holiday for him. A new ache awakens in my chest and I long to take back the words I have just spoken. But I can't and I have to say the rest now.

"I just can't help but think about how different this night would be… how different tomorrow would be if…" I pause, still afraid to speak the words aloud. I know nothing good will come from me hiding from my fears, so I continue: "If I hadn't lost our baby."

The lights from the tree dance as my vision blurs. The tears filling my eyes make me angry. I had sworn that I had already cried enough tears - that I wouldn't cry any more.

Booth is quiet behind me and I hate that I can't see his face. He presses a kiss against my temple. There is something about the room and the tree and the quiet and the night and for the first time I want to tell him the truth in my heart. For the first time, I'm ready to admit the truth to myself.

"I really wish that tonight was different. This is beautiful, but I really wish that we could have the night that we should've had." My voice is surprisingly low and even, considering the emotions swirling inside me.

"I do, too, Bones," Booth's answer is barely more than a whisper. "It's hard, you know, trying to be excited for Parker. Not letting him know that I'm thinking about how much better this could be if things were different. Not imagining how much better this Christmas could have been, if only…"

His voice fades and I wait for him to continue, to finish his thought. Then I realize that there isn't anything more for him to say. If only. There are so many 'if only's' in my life - in both of our lives - that they are too numerous to list. That's when I realize another truth - that if we focus on the 'if only's' then we never get to 'remember when'. 'Remember when's' are good but we can't 'remember when' if we're always wondering how much better it would be 'if only'.

The lateness of the hour is starting to affect my mental capacity and I know that we should be getting some sleep while we still can. Still, there is something more that I have to ask him before the night ends.

"Promise me something, Booth?"

His answering "hmm?" tells me that he's listening but is also beginning to feel the need for sleep.

"Promise me that we'll have the Christmas that we were supposed to have this year. Promise me that one day we won't have to talk about 'if only' and instead we will have a day that we can 'remember when'."

His silence leads me to believe that either I've completely confused him or he's fallen asleep. After a few more minutes of silence, I decide that the latter is the answer and begin to rise. His arms tighten, keeping me next to him.

"I promise, Bones," he whispers in my ear. "Maybe not next year and maybe not the year after, but I promise that we will have the Christmas that we should have had this year."

_Finis._

_A/N: Okay, maybe this post wasn't necessarily timely, but I worked as quickly as I could. I hope it worked even though the season has since passed. _

_Please send me all your thoughts. Not only are they the only form of payment that I receive for this, but they are the only way I can work to improve. _

_Keep your eyes open for Booth's companion piece. I hope to begin posting it in the next week or so. Scarlet._


End file.
